A Black Night in Cairns
by CelticFire32
Summary: Buffer was regretting volunteering to find a radio operator that obviously did not want to be found. In hindsight, dragging Bomber along for the ride probably wasn't that intelligent of a move either. Unfortunately for them, they unearthed a heck of a lot more then they were bargaining for. *****ON HIATUS***
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note:**

 **Hello! Its been a while (A** ** _long_** **while) since I've really posted anything on this website. Unfortunately this summer I had some major writers block...which sucked. So this was a bit of an exercise just to get motivated and to start writing! I think any writer out there knows what a menace writers block is!** **(And whatever you do,** ** _do not_** **get Pinterest. Can I say 'Procrastination'?)**

 **I know...I am literally the worst person for starting stories and not continuing them. Who knows...maybe this will be different.**

 **...**

 **Maybe.**

 **Please read, comment, favourite and most of all** ** _enjoy!_** **This is a bit random, out of my usual genre (which is humor) but...why not right?**

 **ENJOY!**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Mike Flynn was angry.

Very, very angry.

There was nobody who could annoy him like one Leading Seaman Robert Dixon and that was quite a feat considering that Robert spoke about six words a day and had not been on his ship in nearly three years. He hadn't spoken to the man in an age but yet, he still had managed to get on Mike's nerves.

RO was supposed to be at the restaurant preciously seventeen and a half minutes ago.

He was not there. His empty seat between Buffer and Toby "Chefo" Jones was consciously unoccupied and everybody knew it, though nobody had the nerve to say anything however. It was typical Robert behaviour—any chance to _interact,_ to _socialize_ and he was nowhere to be seen.

Mike rubbed his face, peered once again at the door in any hopes that Robert would stroll in, mutter something about traffic and air pollution and sit down so this whole thing would be over with. The truth was, nobody particularly wanted to be here. Nav had already drunk half a bottle of wine by herself and Bomber was attempting to slip the rapidly emptying bottle a concerned looking Bird. Unfortunately, Nav somehow always ended up with a full glass. Sider had spilled about four glasses of water. Kate looked nauseous and the rest of the people collected there—some civilian, some Navy were becoming restless.

"Hey Boss?" Buffer had somehow sidled up beside Mike.

"Yep."

"Robert doesn't live far from here. We can go and get him if you want."

Mike stared at Buffer for a few moments "Do you mind?"

Buffer rolled his eyes "Robert is an idiot. If we all have to suffer through this, he should too."

Mike considered the words. True, it was a boring, painful dinner, a reunion of sorts for eight years' worth of crew in commemoration of the eighth anniversary of the HMAS Hammersley. Though he hadn't set foot in the boot in three years, somehow it had become Mike's responsibility to organize the miserable thing as the current CO of the ship sat next to him, a glazed look on her face as she stared in the distance. For most of them it was an unnecessary reminder of the ET and Swain's deaths (perhaps the reason for Navs alcohol consumption?) but Mike sure as hell wasn't going to let Robert skip out. He had to suffer alongside all of them.

Mike nodded slowly. Buffer headed over to Bomber, tapped her on the shoulder and whispered something to her. She rolled her eyes but pushed away her chair and followed the tall sailor out of the restaurant anyways.

At the head of the table, Mike took a slug of wine and glanced at his watch. Nineteen minutes. Wherever Robert was, he was going to pay.

* * *

Theoretically, it should have been a wonderful, relaxed and altogether enjoyable evening Bomber mused at she pulled out her car keys from her purse. Every moment they spent at the restaurant however, crammed into a tiny space, the noise so loud that you couldn't utter more than a couple of words without going hoarse seemed to tick by like an eternity however. The pain of losing ET was bad but _Swain_ ….Bomber gulped as she motioned Buffer towards her car. That was too much to handle. Seeing everybody there again, trying to laugh and make conversation—she hadn't anticipated how truly difficult it was going to be.

No, Bomber did not blame Robert at all for skipping the evening. He was socially awkward enough on a good day—at a function like that, _bad_ things would happen.

Buffer raised his eyebrows when he climbed into Bomber's car "I never imagined you as a cat person," he joked, gesturing towards the mirror where a small plush ginger cat was hanging. Bomber smiled

"It gets lonely sometimes," she explained, sticking the keys into the ignition, the car roaring, temporarily breaking the darkness. She shifted into gear, headed to the exit "Cats are a good thing."

Buffer chuckled "You haven't changed at all Bomber,"

Bomber bite her lip as streetlights overhead flashed by them like lightning bolts. Of course she had changed—maybe not for the better. She had put on a couple of pounds since her navy days, been with a couple of tossers, good for nothing guys. She had a hunch that that trend may have begun with 2dads, not that she was pointing fingers.

"My hairs longer," she managed to say lamely, switching lanes. Buffer grinned in the darkness "Looks nice."

Bomber had made a vow (coincidentally beginning with 2dads) to never date sailors. She decided to disregard this comment. Completely.

"So…you know where RO lives?" she asked eventually. Buffer nodded, rolling his eyes.

"Yep. I had the unfortunate duty to escort him home after a few too many drinks once or twice," Buffer rubbed his temples "Radio operators should not drink. Ever."

"Ah, so you're Robert's keeper."

Buffer snorted "Obviously. It's taken you this long to figure out?"

They chatted easily for couple more minutes; Buffer explained about his time serving on a frigate in Iraq which apparently was an interesting mission, though he would have taken a patrol boat any day. Bomber in turn told him about her time as a chef, now working at one of the classier Cairns restaurants, mostly cooking for white legged tourists speaking with American drawls. Finally Buffer pointed out a small block of low apartment buildings wedged between two strip malls and Bomber signaled and pulled into the parking lot.

"It's this one. In the back," Buffer said, waiting for Bomber as she hurried along the pavement, heels of her inch high pumps clicking. It was the grimmest looking building of all, broken windows and a cracked door, the small light next to the entrance emitting only a buzzing glow. Bomber wrinkled her nose

"Believe it or not, I never imagined RO living somewhere like this." She commented with a grimace as they passed a couple of broken beer bottles, a discarded syringe on the ground and several leopard print pairs of underwear. Buffer nodded, motioned for her to stay behind him.

They pushed the front door and found a lobby dodgier then the exterior. Buffer hurried them towards the lift, rapidly pushing buttons and looking around with concern as the slow elevator creaked to life. As they waited, a few men staggered by, alcohol so thick on their breath that from five feet, they could smell it.

"Baby! We've been waiting for you!" slurred one of them, approaching Bomber his jeans slipping down his waist. Instinctively, Buffer looped his arm around Rebecca, glaring at the men as he did.

"Sorry mates, she's with me," Buffer growled to the men, who jeered and laughed. Thankfully the lift arrived and the two rushed into it.

"Why does Robert live _here_ , of all bloody places?" muttered Buffer, arm still around Bomber. She just shook her head, gnawing on her lip. Usually she probably would have minded having somebody's arm around her, especially somebody whom she hadn't seen in _years_ but with Buffer, it was nice. Reassuring even. In this creepy place, with those weird guys she was glad to have Buffer.

"Hey Buff," Rebecca listened to the grinding gears and winced as the elevator slowly propelled upwards.

"Yo."

"I have a question."

Buffer looked down at her "Which is?"

"Why'd you take me along?" Bomber shrugged "I mean…somebody like Spider would have been more practical to kidnap Robert."

Buffer laughed, a smile on his face, replacing the previously stone like scowl "Mate, I brought you along because I knew you had a car."

"Fair point."

'And a valid driver's license. My car's in Perth and license is somewhere on the bottom of the ocean outside of Iraq."

"Should I ask?"

Buffer rolled his eyes "Bet gone bad. Trust me, you don't want to know. Besides, you're strong enough to kidnap Robert. He failed basic training. Twice."

Bomber gasped "You're kidding."

"Nope. Man couldn't do more than ten press-ups without collapsing." Buffer smirked, looked down the hallway through the opened lift doors and sighed "This is it. Of course, we could turn around, find a bar somewhere and pretend that the whole thing never happened." He raised his eyebrows at Bomber.

Bombers heart flip-flopped. Did that causal, unassuming sentence have the meaning that she thought it did? She laughed in response "Tempting. Though I'm sure good ole Mike will have us court marshaled into kingdom come if we don't show up with Robert. And I'm not even in the Navy."

"True," Buffer stepped out and Bomber followed as they walked along the dark corridor dotted with black doors "I think it's this one," he announced suddenly, stopping outside of a particularly grimy door. Sure enough, when Bomber peered closer small faded letters spelled out "Dixon, R"

"Should we knock?" she asked anxiously but Buffer shook his head, put a finger to his lips. She grabbed the doorknob and to general astonishment, it turned.

"Oh god, do you think he's already been kidnapped?" Bomber muttered. Next to her, Buffer appeared to be just as concerned.

When the door swung open, they were first hit with the overpowering stench of unwashed clothing, rotten food and something strange and bitter which Bomber couldn't quite place.

"Do we have the wrong apartment?"

Buffer shrugged and involuntarily, sidestepped around, arms crossed like he had a flashlight in one hand, a gun in the other. When Buffer caught Bomber staring, he slowly lowered his arms "Old habits die hard I guess," he explained in a whisper. The apartment was dark and cluttered with piles of rubbish, cobwebs stretching from every corner. In the corner of the living, a small, wood framed television was on, lights flashing in the darkness.

Bomber noticed the figure on the couch first, haphazardly rolled up in a blanket. She pointed wordlessly to Buffer who nodded and together they approached. Bomber groped around the wall for a light switch while Buffer went to wake the person.

Suddenly Bomber felt a familiar shape and all of a sudden, the room flooded with light, just as Buffer stripped off the blanket.

Buffer jumped back like he'd been electrocuted. Bomber shoved a fist in her mouth to stop herself from screaming.

They had found RO alright.

* * *

 **And this is what happens when you write without a plan. You end up with that.**

 **Wow. Okay.**

 **Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! Please comment, favourite etc. Thanks to all of you! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note:**

 **Thank you, thank you to everybody who has read, reviewed, followed etc! This is a random story I know...I appreciate the support. I will mention that this includes references to drug use and illness. this is a darker chapter...just a warning!**

 **Just a usual disclaimer...don't own anything, all characters belong to their rightful owner...**

 **Please enjoy, review, follow, favourite!**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

Emaciation.

Bomber had only ever associated the word with those commercials on the television, the ones with the starving, wide eyed orphans wandering aimlessly across a dusty plain, their little arms and legs pointy and bones jutting out painfully. Every one of those commercials made Bombers heart hurt, made her grateful that that type of suffering was virtually non-existent in Australia.

Up until now that was what she thought.

She had never seen anybody as thin as Robert was. Not alive anyways. Though, in the dim lighting, his skin waxy and yellow she wasn't sure if he was.

Beside her Buffer had a wide eyed stare akin to that of a child, his face horrified as his eyes travelled up and down RO's bare chest. Every bone stuck up, every rib. Just as Bomber and Buffer exchanged a glance, and she lent down to check for a pulse, the small figure stirred, albeit marginally.

"Oh my god Robert," Bomber muttered, suddenly weak, like her legs had been turned into rubber. She swayed on the spot but thankfully Buffer was there. He wrapped his strong arms around her, her face pressed up against his shoulder. The cotton of his t-shirt tickled her nose and smelt vaguely of the sea.

"What's wrong with him Bomb?" Buffer asked, his voice slightly desperate. Bomber saw the fear in his eyes, an emotion that she had rarely seen him have. His joking, the friendly banter—that was gone. Now, both of them gazed at their former colleague, waiting for him to collapse in front of them, to shrivel again and turn to dust in front of their eyes.

Finally Bomber took a deep, steadying breath and marched forward, Buffer trailing in her wake.

It was only then that she noticed the faint marks in both of his forearms, the small glass bottles on the table next to him. The pieces in her mind clicked but she refused to believe it, instead shaking her head and reaching down to put her fingers underneath his chin to check for a pulse. It was there, thready and slow.

"What does it say?" she asked furiously, gestating at the table towards the bottles, knowing she couldn't deny the inevitable for much longer if they were going to help. Buffer cautiously picked one up, squinted his eyes to read the minute writing.

"D-Dilaudid? Maybe?" Buffer shrugged, handed Bomber the bottle "What's Dilaudid anyways?"

Bomber was speechless, staring at the tiny vial in complete shock. That…that was _never,_ not in a million years, the answer that she was expecting.

"Um…are you alright?" Buffer asked, sounding concerned, staring at Bombers shocked expression.

Bomber shook her head, attempting to regain speech

"Dilaudid…It's a drug," she managed to say finally "A narcotic. Like morphine…"

Something in Buffers face flickered

"Addictive?" he questioned.

"Yeah. Definitely." Bomber shook her head as Robert snorted and turned in his sleep, apparently oblivious to the fact that he had company, reveling his left arm for a brief second

"What's that on his arm?" Buffer gripped Bombers hand "Is that…"

"It's a picc line," she muttered 'Why…"

Only then did she note the hollowness of the former radio operator's cheeks, his unusually short hair. Dilaudid, a picc line, his thinness, this horrible apartment…it all made sense.

"He's sick Buff," Bomber explained in a hoarse whisper, feeling faint "Oh god, he's really sick."

* * *

" _Hello, this message is for Robert Dixon reminding him of his next chemotherapy appointment…"_

 _"My name is Patricia, I'm from Barry general Hospital. Robert has a meeting with his oncologist, Dr. Yu next Wednesday…."_

 _"We just received some bloodwork and need to discuss options urgently. If Mr. Dixon could contact us as soon as possible…"_

On and on the messages went, the machine full and blinking. Bomber had only heard a few before tears welled in her eyes and she slowly turned the small recorder off. Next to the machine was a small arsenal of pill bottles, most full like RO hadn't even gotten around to ever taking them. Bomber scanned the small kitchen, stacks of dirty dishes piled up on the counters, small insects scuttling around. This wasn't Robert. Not the Robert she knew anyways.

Robert was still sprawled out, Buffer hovering next to him like somebody was going to arrive and snatch the man if he left his side. Finally, the sailor garnered the strength and pulled out his cellphone, raising it to his ear.

"Buffer?" Mike was clearly furious "Where _are_ you?"

"We're not going to make it boss," Buffer replied tonelessly, watching Bomber survey the kitchen, leafing through piles of paper. Mike began to hiss something but Buffer just flipped the phone shut and stowed it back in his pocket. A minute later, when it began to ring shrilly, he simply took the battery out.

"What are we going to do Bomber?" Buffer demanded "I…I can't deal with this."

"Mate, you're a sailor and I'm a cook. I don't really think either of us really know what we're doing. Or whats going on for that matter," Bomber squinted at the bag of bottles 'From what I can tell, it's a fairly aggressive form of cancer and Robert…well…"

Buffer just glowered and Bomber bite her lip, tears in her eyes once again.

"Gave up I guess," she pushed her hair back "None of the meds have been taken, he didn't return for chemotherapy…he just stopped trying."

"Do you think he might have just been too weak?" Buffer demanded, gesturing towards the still sleeping figure on the couch. Bomber nodded.

"You know Robert. If he had just told us, we could have helped…gotten him to appointments and the likes. But he didn't obviously. So know he's dying alone. It wouldn't be surprising if he was addicted to the Dilaudid as well." Her voice was flat, bitter.

"Is it prescription?"

Bomber shrugged "Probably started out that way but…cancer isn't fun Buffer. He's probably in a lot of pain. It's expensive too."

Buffer's gaze landed on a baseball cap near the door, emblazoned with the Hammersly's crest "Isn't he still in the navy?"

"He probably got some sort of medical leave if he's still going to Barry General. Still…I really don't think anybody realises how bad he is."

Buffer raised his eyebrows "I don't think anybody really knows Robert. At all. He wouldn't have told anybody about this."

"That's a problem when you're a social introvert and snub anybody who even attempts to get close to you. There's nobody to get you to chemo appointments."

"It's a good thing he has fantastic friends like us," Buffer muttered, his mouth twitching. Bomber found herself let out a helpless peal of laughter.

"I'm laughing," Bomber stared into the living room, then turned to Buffer "This is like laughing at a funeral. Or something."

Buffer pulled her close "What should we do?"

Bomber shrugged "I dunno. He's bad though. Really bad. His picc line looks infected, he probably hasn't eaten for days, he's too weak to do _anything_ ….he needs help."

Buffer exhaled "Well…the hospital isn't too far from here and the two of us should be able to lift him into the car at least."

Bomber laughed once again, the sound odd and strange in the dim apartment "I'll admit, this is my first kidnapping," she whispered.

"As lame as this sounds, it's been a day of firsts, Rebecca Brown."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Have a lovely day!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Another installment? Crazy I know...i just got a bit inspired and had ample time to write (work ended a week ago and I'm headed back to school tomorrow actually! AHH!)**

 **Hope you enjoy! I will include a bit more RO is upcoming chapters because who doesn't love RO? He's a also a main character in this but...it hasn't really shown so far!**

 **I dont own anything...please, please, please read, review and enjoy! Its you guys who comment, favourite, follow and read that makes me want to continue! So thank you!**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Bomber's small Honda pulled into Barry General Hospital, lights of a distant ambulance flashing in the darkness. As she hopped out of the driver's seat to help Buffer with Robert, she could only notice how black the night was—not even the stars or the moon were visible. She shivered at the thought, then crouched next to Buffer, who gave a small smile.

They had crammed Robert into the back of the car, only after swaddling him in as many sweaters and blankets as they could find in the minute apartment. It was only as they were carrying him out the front door when he finally stirred, muttered something incomprehensible and promptly continued to snore. Sleep made Roberts's transportation easier for the two kidnappers—neither of them carried chloroform on them on a regular basis so voluntary unconsciousness was the next best thing. Now, they had to move him from the car to the Emergency Room of the hospital without looking too strange.

Yep, Bomber was regretting not calling an ambulance at this moment.

Next to her Buffer rolled his eyes "Wonder how we got roped into _this_ one?"

"Transporting our anti-social radio operator to ER because he's dying of cancer? Search me." Bomber squinted into the back seat, Robert still snoring faintly which was an indication that he was alive at least "If I support his shoulders can you get his legs?"

"Course."

With a grunt, they managed to heave him up and out of the seat, then set off across the parking lot, awkwardly shuffling towards the glass doors, the sign overhead clearly reading 'Emergency Room' in big block letters.

"I wonder where he's serving," Bomber said in a pensive voice, sweat dripping down her face. It wasn't as though Robert was _heavy_ or anything, God no, but it had been a long time since she had aided in the physical transportation of humans. From his feet Buffer tried to remember. Finally, just as they were approaching the ramp Buffer smiled, albeit bitterly.

"He's on HMAS Renegade." There was something brittle and twisted in the way he said it. The glass doors opened, revealing the large, warm ER and Buffer winked "I'll explain in a few."

The ER was quiet, only a couple of people sprawled out in the plastic chairs. The hands on the wall clock revealed that it was close to eleven at night, shocking Bomber. Hadn't they left that horrible dinner at eight? How on earth had three hours passed so quickly?

The nurse on duty, a slight woman wearing turquoise scrubs dotted with loopy flowers took a quick glance in their direction, did a double take and turned, her eyes widening.

"Get me a gurney Dee! Now!" she shouted down a hallway, then faced Buffer and Bomber "What _happened_?"

"This is Leading Seaman Robert Dixon," Buffer growled as another nurse appeared, furiously wheeling a gurney around the corner. The two gently placed the sailor on it and the nurses exchanged a glance

"You better come with us," one of them finally said, pointed to a room labelled 'Examination'. She grabbed the end of the stretcher, then glanced up "Can you find the file for Robert Dixon? Leading Seaman?" she asked her colleague.

They were whisked into a tiny room where the nurse proceeded to gently unravel Robert from his cocoon. At the sight of his picc line she sucked in a breath, then shook her head.

"We'll start a course of IV antibiotics immediately to deal with this," she said, now examining his arms with an air of desperation "Lordy, he's thin."

Bomber nodded as the other nurse barged in, her eyes wide, a thick file clasped in her hands "You should take a look at this," she exclaimed in an astonished voice "We thought he was _dead_."

* * *

"Stage three leukemia? And he never _told_ anybody?!"

Both Bomber and Buffer stared at the Emergency room doctor, a heavyset woman with several pencils stuck in her air, purple circles beneath her eyes. She had been summoned after the nurses had taken one brief look at the file. She shook her head sadly

"No," Dr. Goldstein continued to gently swab the picc line with a cotton ball of iodine "The young man lived alone, no family to check up on him…it appears that he didn't really have any sort of social network to lean on."

'He doesn't" responded the two in unison.

Dr. Goldstein raised her eyebrows "How do you know him?"

"Former colleagues," Buffer explained "We served together on the HMAS Hammersly."

The doctor froze and slowly turned "You're from _Hammersly_?"

Buffer nodded, exchanging a bewildered glance with Bomber. Dr. Goldstein stared at them "I did half of my internship on that crew. Sorry. I guess I'm a bit surprised that any of you made it to middle age."

"You count this as getting to middle age?" Bomber interjected, gesturing at Robert. Dr. Goldstein immediately looked forlorn.

"I didn't mean anything like that," she explained quickly, resuming her work "But in this case…it looks like Robert just quit going to his appointments. Sometimes patients do that…opt for homeopathic treatments or stop chemo to go on an extended trip. It appears that Robert just…slipped underneath our radar. It's not supposed to happen." The doctor finished

"He slipped underneath a lot of people's radars," said Buffer with a small half smile "That's just Robert."

"We'll hospitalize him and start some antibiotics and a fluid IV to re-hydrate him—he's terribly dehydrated. He probably hasn't eaten in several days." She flashed them a smile "You saved his life by bringing him in."

"And how about the cancer?" demanded Bomber. She shrugged

"We'll discuss options with him—schedule a meeting with his oncologist, a consoler, the likes. It's good to know that he's not completely alone in the world however," the doctor gestured for the nurses to wheel him into the wards. Bomber grabbed his hand briefly

"I'm glad you're still alive RO," she whispered, squeezing it. To her shock, there was a brief squeeze back. The nurse smiled and whisked him off.

Buffer and Bomber left the examination room, both too preoccupied to speak. Finally Bomber shrugged at the tall sailor "You want to grab a bite? We never really got to dinner and I _might_ be able to get us seats at the Lorraine."

"Hell, I'd take MacDonald's at this point," Buffers stomach rumbled "Guess I didn't realize how hungry I was."

As they headed towards the exit, Bomber rotting around in her bag once again for her keys, a tall slender woman dressed in formal naval whites rushed towards them "Peter!"

" _Holly_?" Buffer appeared flabbergasted "What...I thought you were in Adelaide!"

"My meeting was cancelled so I flew back early," she said in a high, panicked voice "But then Monica…you know Monica, she's a nurse here, well she saw you and oh god, I thought something was wrong so I rushed over here as soon as I could…Are you okay Peter?"

But Buffer seemed to be incapable of speech. Bomber stepped in

"An old friend of ours needed a ride in," she said in a slow even voice "So we took him." Now that they were closer Bomber could see that the woman was a bit older with crow's feet to match. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a bun and there was a large mole by her nose. Even in the darkness of the parking lot, Bomber was able to make out the words embroidered on the formal hat she held under one arm in tiny gold letters ' _HMAS Renegade'_.

With a jolt, Bomber understood.

The woman did not seem to have hear Bomber or her explanation as to why they were at the hospital. Nor did she ask about the friend or inquire into his condition. Instead she just stared at Bomber suspiciously, eyes narrowed " _We_?"

Buffer smiled weakly, looking rather faint and cut Bomber off before she could retort "Holly, this is Rebecca, an old friend and shipmate of mine. Bomber, this is my girlfriend, Holly."

* * *

 **Voila! Chapter three! Please comment, follow, favourite...tell me what you think!**

 **Thanks so much for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to everybody who has read, commented or followed this story..you are wonderful!**

 **Please enjoy. Once again, i do not own anything**

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

It was exactly fourteen minutes past ten AM and Bomber really, theoretically should have been at work. She was not however, calling in sick, wasting one of her precious vacation days which she was supposed to be saving for a long put off trip to visit her family.

Bomber was sprawled out on her couch, beer in hand and trying desperately to pretend that last night did not happen.

Maybe, she reasoned, taking another sip that if she tried hard enough, RO would be alright, Buffer would be the valiant, chivalrous hero in which she had always imagined him as, that dinner would not have ever existed. If she was really lucky, maybe Holly-the-officer would have fallen madly in love with a scuba driver named Carlos and they would have eloped in Paraguay. She took a sip, noting that it was perhaps a bit early to be drinking, but she figured considering the circumstances it was justified.

In reality, Buffer was an inconsiderate jerk, Holly was still attached to him like super glue and RO was still sick.

The hospital had called her early this morning, causing her to vaguely recall that she had given them her number in case of emergencies. They informed her that RO was still unconscious but making enough improvement that there was the possibility that she could visit that afternoon. Which she supposed was exciting.

Hooray.

No Bomber was not in a good mood.

God that had been an awful night…if only she could forget…

* * *

 _Last Night_

"You're on the Renegade?" Bomber demanded, while Buffer looked stricken. Holly rolled her eyes, obviously used to dealing with junior officers.

"I'm the executive officer on the Renegade… _Rebecca_ ," she replied in a haughty voice "I expect some respect please."

"So…as his XO you would have known about Robert," Bomber said, fists forming at her side. At Holly's side, Buffer muttered "Don't."

"Robert?"

"Leading Seaman Robert Dixon?" Bomber responded "He was posted with you and then requested Medical Leave…"

Holly appeared confused for a few seconds. Then she cast her eyes skyward "Lord, that radio operator? The weird one?"

"Robert isn't weird Holly," Buffer interjected, looking more confident than he had all conversation. A muscle was working in his jaw. Holly appeared unperturbed.

"Whatever Peter. By the time he got with my crew, he was crackers. Wouldn't talk to anybody, hid away in his office, was a damn pain. An introvert. Besides, none of the crew liked him," she rolled her eyes "It was a bit of a relief when he took med leave."

"Introvert or not, he's still got stage three leukemia," Bomber said slowly, spitting out every word "And has no one to look after him."

Holly addressed her coolly "And what exactly do you want me to do?"

Bomber stared at her "Perhaps show a bit of compassion?"

"My job isn't to be compassionate," Holly responded "I'm the executive officer of two hundred sailors. I have other responsibilities than to be compassionate and…and hold one weirdo's hand and do his laundry and make him soup. I did my job."

"Which was?"

"Making sure he knew about support services," Holly said, her eyebrows furrowed together "I gave him the information he needed. It's only his fault if he didn't use them. I'm not the bad guy here."

With one last scathing look at Buffer, Bomber stalked off to her car and drove away into the darkness.

* * *

And now she was here. Again. In her apartment drinking. Really this was becoming a common occurrence. After every break-up. And there had been several. Bomber had an awful taste in men, she knew.

Suddenly her phone vibrated on the table and she lunged for it. A chipper voice greeted her.

"Robert's awake!"

* * *

Robert Dixon stared at the white ceiling, wondering how the hell he got here. Not in a physical sense (though apparently it was a rather long story) but philosophically. When did his life get turned upside down like this?

He was dying.

The oncologist, a grumpy old man with a Russian accent had broken the news to him as soon as they had down a couple of tests. RO had been through the barrage before—x-rays and CTs and bloodwork but this time, it was different. Every nerve was numb, frozen. And when the doctor had given the news, after a hasty conference call with a couple of specialists in Canberra, he didn't even react. Couldn't think, couldn't feel. Weightless nothingness.

The first time was different, after that innocent blood test. The medical officer had insisted on it after one of their crew that come up with a positive test for measles. All it was supposed to be doing was showing whether or not he had immunity. What they found was a white blood cell count through the roof.

At first it was all a bit like a nightmare, the only relief coming from no longer being posted with the renegade. RO hated the ship, hated its officers, especially their XO, Holly Gordon. There were too many people on the boat, about two hundred and as opposed to a cozy little patrol boat, it was a bulking Minesweeper, the navy's newest investment. RO supposed that the newness was exciting—top of the line equipment, a glorious COMCEN but in an artificial, short lived kind of way.

But then the reality hit him like a ton of bricks. Chemotherapy, every week. Throwing up every meal. His skin so pale he was translucent. People pitying as he and his bald head walked through the streets. Exhaustion so consuming that it was like falling into a never-ending hole.

Robert had meant to continue treatment. He supposed, in hindsight he shouldn't have lied about his condition to his superiors, shouldn't have lied to the hospital staff about having families and friends to help him. He figured he could handle it and for a while, he did. Until he couldn't do it anymore. And at that point, it was too late.

* * *

When Robert told Bomber about his diagnosis she had cried. Wrapped her arms around him. Didn't feel it. He still couldn't feel anything.

When he told her that he wanted to go to Melbourne one last time, she had stared, obviously unaware that he any connection to the city.

In the end she had nodded, promised that she would do her best to get him there in the few months he had left.

* * *

When Bomber arrived home, eyes puffy and red from crying there was a bag at her door. Looking closer, she found that it contained Thai food from her favourite restaurant down the street. Pinned to it was a note ' _Truce?'_

Bomber ripped the note off, crumpled it and headed to the couch with the bag. Inconsiderate git Buffer was, she wasn't saying no to Thai food.

 **Please comment, favourite or follow! It means a lot...thank you!**


	5. Chapter 5

**So...hello! Sorry about the long, long,** ** _long_** **wait**

 **Hope you enjoy. Don't own anything.**

 **Please review, follow, favourite etc! Thanks**

Buffer had not meant to stalk Bomber. Or at least he stalking was not meant to be creepy. All he wanted to do was figure out where she lived so a) he could leave a note explaining everything because sending a text seemed like something an anti-social coward would do and b) the text he had already sent to the Rebecca on his contact list had resulted in an awkward conversation with a girl in Hobart.

In hindsight, Buffer supposed that his behaviour was probably extremely creepy and completely warranted a restraining order but hell, desperate times call for desperate measures. In the end, after fuming for awhile, he had called Charge, based in Darwin (Buffer was already wincing over this month's phone bill) and got in touch with Jamie, his son. What had Bomber called him? Pooh bear? Buffer couldn't remember the details, just a hazy reconnletion that they used to serve together. It took some convincing but after insisting that his intention was not criminal and he wasn't going to kidnap her, Jamie unwillingly handed over the information with the wise advice that the way to Bomber's heart was with Pad Thai.

Well, so far there had been no police cruisers swarming his house so he figured that Bomber had taken his peace offer amicably. Sighing, Buffer poked at his soggy cornflakes, wondering what he was going to do with his day of shore leave. He shared a bungalow with a couple of buddies from uni. None of them were navy however, so at eight o'clock this morning they set out while he sat here, staring at the glossy black screen of his phone and wondering what the heck he was going to do. Visit RO? Possibly. Though, that was going to be an awkward conversation.

Buffer found himself staring out the window at the dry yellow patch of front yard, thinking back to his mum, how hard she had fought. It had started off with breast cancer; he was still on Hammersly, called him up but told him not to worry. The doctors were hopeful. Optimistic.

A year and a half later, she was dead.

Suddenly, Buffer's phone vibrates unexpectedly, making him jump. He fumbled for it, swiping in his password.

He stared in disbelief at the senders name.

 _Rebecca Brown_

The text was simple.

 _Fabio's Cafe, 10am. Bring Holly and you're both dead_

No, Bomber Brown did not mince words.

* * *

"Do you know anything about Melbourne?"

Buffer stared at Bomber who was taking a causal sip of coffee like asking about a random South Eastern city was no big deal. They were strolling along the harbour, joggers and yoga clad power walkers pushng past them. Massive military patrol boats were docked, reflections of their names rippling in the water. HMAS Emerson, HMAS Glory. Was Hammersly in their with them? Buffer had to wonder, taking a sip from his own Styrofoam cup. The coffee was flat and tasteless, kind of like dishwater. When Buffer had arrived, Bomber was already there so he had ordered something quickly and assured her that Holly was nowhere near by.

"Ro wants to go to Melbourne," Bomber explained, smiling briefly at a baby in a stroller. It flickered away and she turned back to him "I dunno why."

Buffer shrugged "I don't really know much about Melbourne. I've only been there a couple of times."

Bomber nodded "Same. But...I feel like we kind of have to."

"Why?" Buffer failed to see why he had any sort of obligation to help the radio operator to get to Melborune, even if he did have cancer. Both of them had job and couldn't just pick up and head off all over Australia anytime they felt like it.

Bomber took a deep breath, eyes brimming with tears "He's dying Buff."

Buffer stared at Bomber, words barely registering in his mind "What...what do you mean?"

Tears slid silently down Bomber's face "He only has a couple of months left. Three, maybe four." Her face hardened abruptly "I'm...I'm not asking for your help. I just figured that despite whatever Holly says, you would want to know."

Buffer stared at her, words barely registering in his foggy mind. Spontaneously, without thinking he pulled Bomber into a tight hug. Her shoulders were shaking as she wrapped her arms around him.

Buffer rested his chin on Bomber's hair, suddenly aware of how much he missed this. Human interaction—with Holly, it was cold. Everything—hugs, holding hands was empty with her. They had been together for nearly six months and in that time, Buffer had forgotten how much he missed this.

They stood there, oblivious to the joggers and strollers and children swinging on the arms of their parent, all passing by them.

Nor did they notice the woman, clad in formal whites standing on at the end of the harbour, coffee in one hand and a livid expression on her face

* * *

Bomber glanced uncertainly at her reflection in the glass door, smoothing down the wrinkles in her shirt with a grimace. Laundry. Just another thing on her mounting to-do list. She sighed and let herself into her sister's enormous house thinking of her own tiny apartment. When Abby had moved to Cairns three years ago, Bomber had made a conscious effort to visit her and reconnect. In her mothers words.

 _Even though she's an obnoxious cow_ Bomber thought, walking through the spotless entrance. She could already hear Abby's high, anxious voice echoing from the back porch which looked out onto the sparkling coral sea.

Bomber pasted a smile onto her face and opened the door.

"I just don't know about _orange_ ," Abby was saying tearfully. The glass top and iron wrought table was covered in colour swatches, fabric, piles of paper and behind it all, a calm looking Nav.

"Okay, not orange,," she said reassuringly, replacing the swatch and pulling out another colour out "How do you feel about coral? Hey Bomber."

Bomber smiled weakly in response, plonked herself into a chair and wishing that she had a glass of wine. Or a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"What do you think?" Abby held up a scarp of lace next to the coral swatch "Too risque?"

There was literally nothing in this world that Bomber cared about less than wedding schemes.

"You okay?" Nav was looking at her with concern. Bomber nodded, pulled out the few travel guides she had found in the lobby of the hospital on Melbourne.

The fact that Nav had become a wedding planner had confused a large number of people, Bomber included. But in those years after quitting the navy, she had created a niche for herself—the ultra rich of Cairns. Like Abby. Or, more accurately her future husband.

"Um...do either of you know anything about Melbourne?" Bomber demanded as the two poured over papers. Neither of them looked up

"Not really no," muttered Nav, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear "Why?"

Suddenly Bomber's phone vibrated in her purse and she lunged for it. It was the hospital.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," Bomber collected her things and rushed for the door before either of them could say anything.

* * *

Ripping the IV out of his arm was probably a bad idea but at this point, Ro could not stand another minute in this damn hospital. Two nurses and a doctor rushed in, trying to push him back down into the bed.

"Let me out!" he shouted, feebly trying to fight them. Unfortunately, the two female nurses were a lot stronger than he had expected. The doctor joined in, restraining him with thick black straps around his wrists while they tried to re-inject the IV.

"I refuse it," he gasped "I refuse medical treatment."

The three exchanged a glance

"I'll call the emergency contacts," one of them whispered and scurried away.

* * *

"This is the dumbest thing I have ever done," Bomber said as she stepped down on the accelerator, sending them speeding down the highway "And I'm the one who slept with 2Dads."

Buffer let out a laugh, glanced in the back "You okay Ro?"

Ro was in the back, covered with blankets and replied with a grin. He was looking better than he had before—his skin had lost it's bluish tint but his cheeks were still hollow, his skin papery and translucent. He was covered with blankets.

"Aren't you going AWOL?" Bomber asked Buffer. He shrugged, "Shore leave for a week."

His phone began ringing shrilling, causing him to grimance and roll his eyes.

"Holly?" Bomber raised her eyebrows sarcastically as they passed a slow moving BMW. Buffer sighed, looked back down at the phone which was ringing again. Abruptly, he wrenched the window open and threw his phone out. Both Bomber and Ro stared.

"What?" Buffer shrugged again, rolled his eyes a little bit "We're young. We're stupid."

"You're like, thirty five mate but alright with me," smiled Bomber, jamming the radio on. The highway unfurled beyond them, black and cracked and hot.

It was three o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon. Somewhere south, some two thousand kilometres, Melbourne was waiting.


	6. Chapter 6

**What? Two updates? I know, it's crazy. It was a rainy day.**

 **Please enjoy, comment, favourite etc.**

 **Tell me what you think. This is mostly just a writing exercise for me.**

Bomber had only been to Melbourne once, way back in year eleven, back in high school. Their dinky school soccer team has somehow managed to make statewide finals. Considering they were from Mt. Isla, practically the middle of nowhere, it was a big deal.

Bomber didn't remember much about the trip, just the way the heat radiated up from the Astro turf and burned her feet, sweat pouring down her face. She was a midfielder and for those three days, she ran. And ran and ran. And then missed the net in finals against a team from the suburbs of Melbourne and lost them the game. And she hadn't been back.

The city skyline loomed in the distance as she glanced in the backseat at Ro. He was sleeping, head lolling on the window. She wondered if she should wake him up. Buffer shook his head.

"Rough night last night," he said, almost inaudibly. Bomber, albeit creeped out nodded. They had stayed in a crappy roadside motel last night, full of bedbugs and clanking air conditioning and fluorescent lights. She had barely slept a wink herself—poor Robert. She couldn't even imagine how he was feeling.

"Do you know why he wants to see Melbourne?" she demanded. Buffer shrugged

"Dunno. Who ever knows with Ro, right?"

She smiled "It's been awhile since I was here."

Buffer stared out the windshield "I went to uni here."

"Oi! You could have mentioned that!" Bomber exclaimed, whacking his arm. He chortled "Uni was a long time ago."

"Yeah? What'd you take?"

"Bachelor of science, major in chemistry."

Bomber had to laugh. She had never really pictured Buffer of all people as they academic type "So not just another pretty face then?"

"Apparently not," Buffer cracked a smile "Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere," Bomber bit her tongue "Well, I did do a year of chef training at college. That was it. Then the navy."

"But you ended up in Melbourne. Right?"

A sign flashed past them 'Melbourne, 20 kilometres.' She nodded "Back in high school. For a soccer tournament."

Buffer looked at her with what looked like admiration "I didn't know you played."

"I did...a _long_ time ago. We were in state finals. And I missed the net." She laughed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Buffer was looking at her, a small smile playing on his lips "Number thirteen."

"How the hell did you know that?" she spun around to face him, not caring about the road. How the heck did he know her soccer number from high school. Thirteen. Unlucky thirteen because she had skived off practice to go get drunk with Aiden Thomas and the coach had handed out jerseys and it was the only one left.

"I has in fourth year of uni and doing some reffing for extra money. I remember that game—I was lining. You missed the net and at the end of the game, stormed off the field. Didn't even shake hands," Buffer shook his head "Shoulda called you for unsportmanship."

Bomber pursed her lips. Because that was exactly what happened "I was angry, of course I was unsportsmanlike."

"You know, I was gonna ask for your number but you left before I could." Buffer continued, eyebrows raised.

"Oh c'mon Buff...you expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth." Buffer threw up his hands. Bomber just rolled her eyes.

Suddenly Robert stirred, rubbed his eyes "What time is it?"

"Nearly three o'clock, Friday afternoon," Buffer replied, glancing at his watch "Almost in Melbourne mate."

Robert stared out the windshield "I can't believe I'm here."

Bomber had to laugh "Mate, we've just put two thousand kilometres on my car. You better believe it."

"So, where're we gonna go?" Buffer demanded "Victoria Harbour? The university?"

Ro pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, handed it to him "Here."

* * *

The bungalow was small, with yellow shutters and a large front porch, the walkway lined flowerbeds. Glenna arched up back and looked up at the clear blue sky, trowel in hand.

Glenna Hargaraves has lived on Melbourne's west side for nearly twenty years, raised two kids there. They were both off succeeding in their own lives, one in Perth, the other in Sydney. Though she missed them, it was nice to have more time for things like her gardens. Thankfully the relentless heat of the summer had passed and she was able to get out and tend to her flowers again.

Glenna was just pulling a dead leaf off of a small shrub when a Honda Civic zipped into the lane way. She stared and stood up. Ten in the morning on a Saturday? She wasn't expecting anyone.

Two people stepped out of the car—a woman with reddish hair pulled back in a plait and a man, who was huge and muscular. She didn't recognize either of them.

"Can I help ya?" Glenna called, pulling off her gloves and walking towards them. Young people—maybe a couple, no doubt lost without GPS.

"Hey," the girl smiled, extended a hand "Um..My name's Rebecca. Rebecca Brown. And this is Peter Tomaszewski."

"Glenna Hargraves." She gave them a half smile, searching for any clue why they were here. The man had beige chino shorts and a blue t-shirt, the woman a white top and shorts. Neither was wearing wedding bands and both seemed visibly anxious.

"Do you..." the man paused, glanced at the woman "Do you know a Robert Dixon?"

* * *

"My sister was so young when she meet Gerald...sixteen, seventeen? I can't quite remember now." Glenna took a sip of her lemonade. Eyes wander towards the mantle where there's a line of family photos "Maureen was so...responsible. We never thought," Glenna trails off and Bomber and Buffer exchange a glance "He was just a tiny thing when he was born. Premmie—was in the neonatal intensive care unit for nearly two months. Maureen...my sister didn't want anything to do with him. She was only eighteen when she had him and Gerald was thirty."

Bomber took a cautious sip of her lemonade. When they asked about Robert, Glenna had visibly paled. Asked in a wavering voice if they wanted a drink and led them inside.

So this was Robert's aunt. She was pretty, maybe in her sixties and tanned. Black hair like Robert. They weren't sure how Robert got her address but today, while Ro was resting in the hotel room they had rented they decided to talk to her before they brought Ro to see her.

"I...I haven't heard anything about Robert in years. Gerald moved around a lot you see. Maureen...well, she stuck around for the first year or so, the decided she wanted something else, other than a tosser of a boyfriend and an infant."

"And you never heard from Robert?" Buffer was staring at the table. Glenna sighed

"Not much. We...knew he joined the navy. I have to ask you, how do you know Robert? Is he alright?"

Neither Bomber nor Buffer knew how to respond.

"Well...we served on the same ship together." Bomber said finally. Glenna beamed at them

"Oh! I didn't realize you were navy too."

"Look Glenna, we have something to tell you," Buffer said finally "Please hear us out."

 **And there we are! Again please comment, favourite, follow!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Another chapter...please, please review, follow, favourite! Tell me what you think...Thanks for reading**

* * *

"You want..." Glenna's voice wavers for a second, looking at Ro forlornly "You want to meet her?"

Ro licked his lips, looked at her with a frown "Yes."

And this was the moment when Bomber felt like face palming. Instead she exchanged a glance with Buffer. Of course that's why Ro wanted to see his aunt...so he could find his mother. Make peace with her or something. Bomber hadn't actually ever been privy to Robert's home life but she had assumed it had been like most—boring? Suburban? Still, it was hard to imagine Robert as a child, running around in Oshkosh overalls covered with mud. Even more difficult was imagining Robert as a teenager; going to school, playing soccer, skiving class, drinking on the weekends, dating girls?

Weird. Bomber shuddered, thinking about Robert growing up. Weird, weird, weird. Nope. Robert probably just fell out of the sky one day, wearing a Navy uniform and dog tags and demanded that everybody got the hell out of his communication center.

"It's just...I want to meet her. Before, you know..." Ro looks out the window for a second "I never got to meet her. I just want to know...what she's like. Who she is."

"Oh honey," Glenna glances at Buffer and Bomber helplessly "I haven't spoken to my sister...in years. We had a falling out and never made up."

"Do you know where she lives?"

Glenna shrugged "Um...No."

"Do you at least know what city she lives in?" Ro was beginning to look desperate, wringing the ball cap he had previously had covering his bald head in his hands "Please. I have to do this."

Glenna shook her head "The last time I heard, she was living in Adelaide, honey."

 _What's another thousand kilometres on my car?_ Bomber thought sarcastically. They had only just chugged their way into Melbourne and now he was going to have to get to Adelaide?

God, this just was not her week.

"Her name...when I last heard anyways was Maureen Frost. She...she remarried." Glenna stared at her tea mug "I'm sorry Robert, I don't have an address or a phone number."

"It's alright," he muttered, stood up and hugged her "Thanks. For everything. Those summers that I spent here where the best I ever had."

There were tears in her eyes when she let him go.

* * *

"I can't go." Robert stared at the freshly turned earth of Glenna's gardens. Both Bomber and Buffer waited by the car, Bomber tossing the keys in her hand.

'What do you mean you idiot?" Buffer demanded, annoyed "We have to leave for Adelaide this afternoon if we want to get there by tomorrow."

"No," Ro shook his head "No. I can't ask you two to take me to Adelaide. Not after you already drove me this far. You have work Bomb and Buffer...you can't go AWOL just for me."

Bomber rolled her eyes "Robert Dixon, look at me."

He looked up.

"Listen here," she exclaimed, shaking her finger in his face "We have not driven halfway across the country just for you to give up. I have plenty of vacation days. And Buffer..." she paused "Well, hell what can you do? The navy isn't gonna miss one person. We are going to find your mother Ro. Now get in the car."

Robert had never said no to a very angry Bomber before. He figured that now was not a wise time to start.

* * *

Ever since the oncologist told Robert about his impending doom, he had been thinking about his Dad, which was sort of strange because Gerald Dixon was long gone and had never really given a damn about his son.

His father had been a police officer and by all accounts a popular one. He was the one everybody knew, always said hi to whenever he entered a store because he was just so well known. Every Friday, he came into the elementary school for safety talks, teaching children to look both ways before crossing a street and being safe online and how to deal with bullies. And on those Fridays, he would go to Robert's class and wink at his teacher, asking if she could excuse Robert, even though school didn't end for another fifteen minutes. Because to everybody in that town, that was the type of selfless, dedicated father Gerald Dixon was.

What they didn't know happened behind closed doors; drawn curtains, shattered bottles.

When Robert first came to school with a black eye, his first grade teacher stared at him in horror "My God Robert! What _happened_?"

And Robert stared at his scuffed running shoes and mumbled "I fell. Down the stairs." Because his father made it clear what would happen if he told.

And then there was that time, back when he was eight when he wound up in the hospital with a fractured larynx, the trainee doctor had looked at him worriedly "I've never seen a child with this extensive of an injury before. From just a fall?"

The doctor, an old man in his forties had obviously missed the implication behind his words "Kids will be kids. Got four at home."

"But sir..." the trainee doctor had glanced over at Robert, who was pretending to sleep, lowered his voice an octave "Sir...based on his extensive medical history, should we rule out...abuse?"

The senior doctor had snorted, jabbed a thumb in his direction "Collins, this is Gerald Dixon's kid. He spends his life protecting kids from that. Do you really think he would abuse his own son?

And that is why, for nearly fifteen years, Robert Dixon had been beaten and screamed at and told he was going to kill him by his own father, who drank too much and screamed at demons from work that showed up in his dreams. When Robert told him that he was joining the military when he was eighteen, the day after grade twelve graduation, his father had snorted "You're weak. You'll never make it in the military."

The real reason why Robert Dixon wanted to meet his mother was to see the type of person who would leave a child with a drunk abusive man like Gerald.

* * *

Buffer and Bomber somehow wound up at a bar in the middle of Melbourne while Robert napped. It was very sketchy, each table covered with a layer of grim, the glasses cloudy. There were only a couple of other patrons in the bar and the bartender looked slightly surprised when they walked in and ordered drinks.

"Did you ever expect this to happen?" Buffer finally said, taking a swing from his beer.

"Delving into the lost long Dixon family tree? Not really," Bomber replied, rubbing here face "Lord...do you know anything about Adelaide? I've never been."

"Same."

"So what are we going to do?"

Buffer shrugged "Take a chance? Jump in head first, damn the consequences and see where we land?"

"You should write poetry Peter," Bomber muttered and didn't pull away when he took her hand in his. It felt silly, like she was back in Mount Isa (though back in her wild high school days, things progressed a hell of a lot quicker than just hand holding) but also, oddly right. Something comforting in this whole, colossal mess.

"You know what I propose?" Buffer said seriously "We forget about life for the evening. We pretend that we don't know about Robert, or the cancer, or the whole thing with his mom. We forget that I'm AWOL and I have a psychotic girlfriend back in Cairns or that you should be at work and...and"

"My sister is getting married to the heir of a massive uranium mine and I'm supposed to be at a bridal dinner?" Bomber offered with a tiny grin "And wear an awful bridesmaid dress and act like I'm happy for her, even though I'm really not?"

"Exactly!" Buffer took a slug of beer "We are, for one evening just two normal people. Peter and Rebecca. Nothing more."

"That sounds like a good plan," Bomber said with a small smile, looked up at him "So...as two normal people would you mind if I did this?"

And with that, she reached over and planted her lips on his.

No, it was not going to be a normal evening at all.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading**


	8. Chapter 8

**I AM SO SORRY! I messed up with my posting...sorry guys! Here is the real chapter!**

 **Please enjoy, read, review...it means so much!**

 **I hope I have done justice to Australian weather. I'm from Canada...it's a bit different way up north! Haha but seriously, I don't think most of Australia is covered by snow for a good six months of the year! Most of what I've written is from pictures.**

 **Don't own anything etc. Usual disclaimers**

 **Thanks!**

* * *

The rest stop was grotty, to say the least, situated smack in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by miles of dusty fields and scrub. There were two gas pumps, which gurgled and spat and a squat little building. Only two cars were parked outside; a rusty white farm truck, covered in red dirt with a bale of hay in the back and a small Honda Civic. Inside, under the fluorescent lights Bomber stood staring at the buttons on a payphone, fistful of quarters growing warm in her hand.

How do you explain to your insane sister that you were going to miss her wedding because you were travelling around Australia?

There was only the cashier behind the counter, an older guy with grey hair and a massive beer belly who was watching them suspiciously. Robert was looking over a rack of ball caps and Buffer watched snatches of a news broadcast from an old television. They were only a few hours from Adelaide but nobody was sure what was going to happen once they got there.

Bomber sighed, tendrils of heat curling around, sweat rolling down her back. Things were awkward with the three of them, that was for sure.

Robert? Well, everything was always awkward with him. He had been on this earth for thirty years and had probably never felt comfortable once. The problem was Buffer.

The evening had been the best date Bomber had ever been on, hands down. Back home, things tended to move along quite a lot quicker. Back in her wilder teenage years a date usually ended up in some guys bedroom.

No, nothing like that. Bomber and Buffer had walked around the city, gotten ice cream from a street vendor and watched the lights of Melbourne reflect along the ocean at midnight. He had told her about home, his mother, his obsessive girlfriend and how she was probably court marshalling him to high heaven. He told her that he wanted nothing more then to settle down somewhere, have a couple of kids but was afraid he was going to miss the adrenaline rush. Bomber in turned tried to explain to him what it was like growing up in a small rural town; riding horses bareback, choring at her neighbour's farm, taking a school bus nearly an hour either way. She told him about the rotten boyfriends, that her favourite song was 'Wagon Wheel' and what it was like to lose your home to a forest fire.

The kiss had been slow, full, breathless. Foreign. Certainly nothing Bomber had ever felt before. The lights, glittering around them had swirled; the people around them had faded away. She heard his heart beating, strong and steady.

And this morning he wouldn't look her in the eyes.

Bomber stuck the quarters back in her pocket, gritted her teeth and figured it was probably time to head off to a cult in Iceland.

* * *

"It's not my bloody fault that the car overheated," Mike Flynn kicked the tire of the sedan for good measure, briefly meet Kate's furious glare "We are in Australia Kate. Australia is hot."

"No kidding," Kate massaged her temples, inwardly groaning. The baby had screamed for nearly the entire trip, hot with a fever that refused to break. She had spent nearly four hours bent in the backseat, pressing cold clothes on the child's head, fanning him as sweat ran down her face and her neck cinked. It was going to take a long session at the chiropractor once they got back to Sydney where Mike was stationed.

If they ever got back of course. They had managed to cruise into the tiniest, grossest little gas station before the engine gave out. The heat was worse then the city; suffocating and unrelenting compressed down on the red dirt like a heavy cloud. Her heels clicked on the cracked asphalt as she swung the diaper bag over one shoulder.

"I'm going to see if it's cooler inside," she mumbled, hoisting the baby over here shoulder. Mike barely looked up "See if they have a mechanic."

The shop was bit better, an air conditioner set up in one corner whirring away. Kate pressed the back of her hand on the baby's forehead; boiling hot. She sighed, not sure what to do.

There were only a few other people who were in the gas station—the man behind the counter who seemed surprised, like he wasn't used to having so many patrons. The other people were young enough, maybe in their thirties. A girl with shoulder length reddish hair, staring at the payphone like it was an alien, a tiny wisp of a man wearing a ball cap and sun glasses, barely disguising his pale face and another man, one who was tall and muscular wearing cargo shorts.

She heart skipped a beat and she blinked. No. No way on earth were they Bomber, Buffer and Robert. She shifted the baby over. _It's the heat_ she finally decided. The heat was playing tricks on her. That and she had seen them only a few weeks ago at that horrible party.

She missed Jim. The thought crossed her mind so quickly that she knees almost gave out with the realization of it. She missed him, missed his smile. And it was a tiny gas station in the middle of nowhere that made her realize this.

She smiled down at the baby, who's tiny fingers formed small fists, mouth open wide, tufts of hair sticking up at odd angles. She just hoped that Mike would never question naming their child James.

* * *

Buffer saw Bomber stuff the quarters back in her pocket, shake her head. Tapped her shoulder and motioned at the door. She nodded, shoved on her sunglasses. Buffer went to go see Robert, tell him they were going. Only Robert, in this oppressive heat could wear jeans and a heavy rain jacket. Buffer was dying of heat in his t-shirt and shorts.

"We're leaving mate," Buffer wasn't in a mood for talking, that was certain. He wasn't sure why. Things were...well he wasn't sure. Was he afraid that he was growing attracted to Bomber? She was younger then him, by a good ten years. Did that matter? All he could think of was Holly, thought of the box he had bought shortly after they had started dating. Then, she had been smart and funny and caring and...a million of other adjectives. And then she had gotten promoted and all of that had gone to hell.

Robert opened his mouth, seemed to sway on the spot. Collapsed into a motionless heap onto the grimy tiles.

* * *

 **Please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello! This is the next installment. Please review, favourite and follow-Let me know what you think! I really, really appreciate your support and encouragement! Thank you to everybody who has helped.**

 **I don't own anything**

* * *

Buffer watched helplessly as the nurse, a tall women with long brown hair in blue scrubs efficiently hooked the IV into Robert's arm. The clear liquid dripped down slowly (What had they called it? Saline? Something like that) and with every drop, his guilt intensified.

They should have been in Adelaide, finding Robert's mother right now. He had lost his own mother—couldn't he empathize? It was Robert's one last wish and it was their job or duty or responsibility or _something_ to fulfill it. His and Bombers. It was their job and dammit if they screwed it up.

Buffer glanced over his shoulder and Bomber. She was sitting in one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room, staring up at a flickering television screen mounted on the wall but he could tell that she wasn't watching. He knew a lot more about her now, knew when she was nervous, she would pinch the bridge of her nose and sad, she would crank up the radio and sing along until nothing hurt any more. Holly barely graced his thoughts anymore; the hurt wasn't there anymore. And here, in this crappy hospital in the middle of nowhere, he was finally ready to—

"Sir?" a young man was looking at him expectantly and Buffer shook his head, snapping back to reality

"Yes?"

Buffer felt something shift next to him; Bomber had sidled in next to him. He fought the unexpected urge to put his arm around her waist.

"Mr. Dixon severely dehydrated," the doctor shook his head little bit "I'm sure you already knew that he is currently in the final stages of life. We recommend palliative care at this point."

"Isn't there anything we can do?" demanded Bomber helplessly. The nurse patted her consoling on the shoulder as the doctor shook his head.

"It...it won't be much longer now," he said sadly. Buffer's legs felt like jelly; there wasn't much keeping him standing up at this point. Dying. He knew...he knew that Robert had cancer and wasn't going to get any better. But dying...no Buffer wasn't ready for this. Robert was too young.

His mum was too young.

ET was too young.

Everybody was too young to die.

"He has to see his mum," Buffer heard himself saying "In Adelaide."

The doctor shook his head "Absolutely not."

Buffer found himself turning to look down at Bomber. Tears were streaking silently down her face but her keys were in her hand.

"Where can you palliative care?" Buffer asked.

"There's a hospice location about half an hour from here," the doctor said the name of a town but Buffer wasn't even paying attention "We can transfer him there."

Buffer nodded and Bomber went over, kissed Robert on the forehead, turned back to Buffer.

Hell or high water, they were finding his mother before it was too late.

* * *

Mike could only shake his head as the lights of Melbourne drew closer. He was happy to be home, finally.

"Don't even think about it."

Kate's words were sharp, like a knife. The baby was in her lap, finally, _finally_ silent after the worst road trip, quite possibly ever. Mike glanced over at her, accelerated to pass a slow moving minivan "What do you mean?"

"I see it in your face," Kate pursed her lips "You're going to report Buffer."

Mike felt like screaming at her, trying to make her understand. Vent out everything at her because it was her bloody fault that their marriage was crumbling and this was only another argument. Instead he just sighed "What do you want me to do Kate? Pretend I didn't see him? Not report an AWOL sailor?"

His tone was mocking and condescending and he could see that Kate was biting her lip, had her eyes closed like she was trying to ward off his words. He immediately felt guilty, tried to block that. It was her bloody fault, he told himself, over and over again. He fault, her fault, her fault.

"No," Kate starred straight ahead at a billboard for cellphones "I figured that you would at least have a bit of a heart."

"He's AWOL."

"He's helping his dying friend."

Mike snorted "Robert doesn't have friends. He has acquaintances who should be on a patrol boat somewhere in the Pacific ocean right now."

"Mike."

"What?" They were slowing down as traffic build and Mike sighed. He wished that they were going fast, too fast to hear a thing. Because deep down, he knew that she was right—Buffer and Bomber were decent people, trying to do the right thing "He is AWOL. Think about Holly too."

Kate's nostrils flared; Mike knew her opinion on Holly. He sloughed on "What about her? She should know were her boyfriend is."

"So she can court marshal him high heaven."

There was an icy silence as Mike contemplated her words. Holly was insane; he had never understood that relationship. He didn't blame Buffer for running halfway across the country to get away from her.

"I have to report him," he said finally as they pulled into the drive of their home.

Kate shifted the baby over her shoulder and stalked inside without him. Oh well. They hadn't slept in the same room for nearly six months. Mike sat silent in the car, wondering just how worse this could get.

* * *

The radio was loud, too loud to be comfortable but Bomber didn't acre if her ears started to bleed, she just wanted to be numb. Robert was going to die. Very, very soon. Every note pounded in her chest as they drove along the dark highway, straight and flat and never ending.

"Bomber."

She ignored him.

"Bec."

She glanced over at Buffer in surprise. He didn't usually use her first name; opted for Bomber like they were back on patrol, still in the navy.

"What are we doing?"

"I dunno," she responded simply, tears threatening to overflow "Robert is going to die and I don't even now where to start looking for his mom and...and, God this is such a mess."

Bomber couldn't help it; her shoulders began to shake.

"God Bec." Buffer shook his head "Pull over."

The high beams cut wide swathes of light, showing road and scrubby land. Buffer leaned over, took Bomber in his arms. She continued to cry on his shoulder, tears dampening his t-shirt. She hoped he wouldn't mind. His arms were wrapped around her tightly—it was safe. And despite her tears and the craziness surrounding her, she felt a tiny flutter in her chest.

"You need some sleep," Buffer finally said, smoothing her hair with his hand. She nodded, wiped the rest of the tears from her face with the sleeve of her shirt "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Buffer was looking at her with an odd expression. She started the ignition again, cruised in silence for nearly half an hour. Suddenly, lights twinkled in the distance.

"Is that Adelaide?"

Buffer shook his head "Too soon."

The lights turned out to be from a small rest stop—a restaurant, gas station and motel. Bomber could barely keep her eyes open as she pulled in and they stumbled towards the door. The clock on the wall read nearly two in the morning She had no idea that they had been driving for that long—after the hospital this morning, the day had just blurred by.

Buffer nodded at her head, room keys in hand and she stumbled towards him

"We have rooms 3 and 4," he said as they walked along the cracked pavement, discarded cigarette butts underneath their feet "Here we are."

He stopped outside a weathered white door, broken lawn chair sitting next to the window "Goodnight Bomber."

"Wait," Bomber grabbed his arm as he turned to leave "Please. Don't go just yet."

There was a deafening pause, the only sound a flickering streetlamp. Buffer bite his lip, looked back at Bomber and then slowly nodded.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Any predictions? Let me know what you think!**


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